


you'll miss me (i won't say it)

by zari_writes



Series: i didn't know i was lonely (i wanna get better) [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, braunstun is awesome damn, but the team feelings man, feelings with jack n eric, i almost cried not gonna lie, lardo is a badass, sad feelings from cappy, then team feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:58:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3192692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zari_writes/pseuds/zari_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Bitty talk about feelings, Jack says 'let it go', and singing ensues. Dr. Braunstun has some thoughts on Bitty's "concern" (read: crush) about a certain Canadian hockey player.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. v. you're gonna miss (the friend in) me when you're gone

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry for what you're about to read. I am trash. pls don't kill me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got your back. Always, always got your back.

When Bitty’s mom calls about the whole “just checkin’ up on you, baby, cause I’m so worried” it’s normal. The conversations were stilted for a while, Mama Bittle tiptoeing around the subject of her son liking boys and not girls. Finally, Mama Bittle confesses that she’s been doing some reading and says the following:

One: She is so proud that her baby had decided to come out to her.

Two: She is disappointed in herself because she thought Bitty was just confused or trying to get attention.

Three: She is so sorry that she never helped her baby feel safe enough to come out to him.

Four: When was he going to tell his father.

The first three illicit more tears from Bitty but they’re the happy/relieved kind that overjoyed military families sob when their loved ones come back home. The fourth, however, causes Bitty a kind of dread that usually lead to hours of talking to Shitty. In short, quick sentences, Bitty tells his mother that yes, he had told his father, and no, they weren’t talking. Everything is quiet for a while but neither mother nor son hang up the phone, too afraid about whether or not they would call back or even _talk_ again. To Bitty’s own surprise, it is _he_ who re-initiates the conversation. Nothing too heavy or serious. Just a casual comment about the carepackage that his mother had sent him last month. The conversation ends like all their calls usually do, only this time, Bitty’s mother says something with such motherly command and finality in her voice, Bitty is briefly reminded of his figure skating days.

“ _When Family Weekend happens again_ ,” he remembers her declaring, her tone making no room for objections, “ _we are comin' down to visit you_.”

Bitty finds himself doing several things but none of them are: a) trying to remember how and when he got wherever he might end up; b) having an attack; or c) crying. Instead, he finds himself in Jack’s room, talking about his parents coming over for Family Weekend, and trying not to start crying. Jack is carefully guiding Bitty over to his bed where Bitty sits (read: drops) onto the mattress. The captain’s arm forms a solid, warm line of comfort around Bitty’s shoulder.

“She’s makin’ an effort to understand, I get that, but I’m confused on why Coach needs to be brought into all this,” Bitty mutters, trying to sound annoyed to cover the bourgeoning panic.

“Maybe she just wants you to talk to your dad. She does seem to want the best for you,” Jack tries to reason and he truly does believe that Mama Bittle wants the best for her son but he can also see where Bitty’s coming from. Bitty doesn’t like being forced into confrontation; Likes to go into things on his own terms and conditions with full backup clauses and loopholes just in case.

Unfortunately, when it comes to confrontation, both Jack himself and Mrs. Bittle would be in _complete_ agreement if they were in the same room.

Jack thrives in confrontational situations. In just getting this shit _over_ with already. There’s nothing to think about, no planning, no formulating escapes or having to count backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards. It’s all simple and to the point. For Jack, confrontation is the best solution for the worst of problems. But for Bitty...it’s different.

Bitty wants to laugh out loud at how ridiculous this all is. At how he’s _panicking_ over his parents visiting him (which, in his opinion, is fucking terrifying [ _oh my Beyonce and everything that is precious to the world of baking and hockey it’s fucking_ terrifying]) and is already in college yet is about to start crying over his parents visiting. But in a way...Bitty’s panic makes sense.

After years of just hiding and always evading and dodging with a friendly but somewhat melancholic smile, “Thanks, but no thanks”, he was being put on the spot by people he trusted most. Bitty has spent the better part of his life _hiding_ because he was afraid of how people would think of him. How the very people he loved and trusted would think of him. Something clenches in Jack’s chest and it makes breathing just a tad more difficult.

“I think…” Jack chooses his words carefully, reminding himself this isn’t a confrontation. Decisions can have their planning, and counting backwards and forwards is sometimes a necessary evil. If an escape is necessary...well, the Samwell men’s hockey team doesn’t say ‘got your back’ for nothing. Jack takes a deep breath and turns his face slightly, so he’s facing Bitty.

“I think that you should listen to your mom, Bitty.” Before Bitty can protest, Jack holds up a placating hand.

“She wants-- She _knows_ what’s best and what’s best for you _and_ your dad right now is to...face this problem. Not exactly head-on but--To at least face this problem in some way. It may not be the most comfortable way--”

“But it’s a necessary thing, I know. I just…” The words unspoken hang like fragile glass just ready to drop and break. Jack knows the words that go unsaid. The delicacy of this one moment in which they _both_ know what may or may not be said. _I just don’t want to be a disappointment. I don’t want them to stop loving me. I don’t want them to_ leave _me_.

“You won’t be. They won’t stop or leave or do anything like that. Just let whatever happen, happen. Just...let it go.” Bitty blinks at Jack, slowly, and then quirks an eyebrow.

“Did you just quote _Frozen_ at me, Jack Zimmerman?” It’s Jack’s turn to blink as he turns to completely face Bitty, the captain’s face contorted with confusion.

“All I said was ‘let it--”

“ _LET IT GO! LET IT GO~!_ ” In through the door bursts Shitty in his (thankfully) half-naked state of glory along with Lardo, belting out words to a song in a key that even Beyoncé would be shocked at.

“I still don’t--”

“ _DON’T HOLD IT BACK ANYMOOOOooOOooOOOoORE!_ ” Ransom and Holster stumble into the door, tripping over themselves as they try to fit two bodies into a hole made for one. Jack is staring, eyes wide and mouth agape while Bitty breaks into a fit of giggles as the four members of the hockey team continue singing at decibels that would have bats crying.

“What’s going--”

“ _THAT PERFECT GIRL IS GOoONE!_ ” And suddenly, the frogs are there, all members of this spontaneously formed heptet belting words to a song that Jack didn’t know even existed five minutes ago. Without missing a beat, Bitty is up and singing with the rest of them, dragging Jack up with him. It’s nothing unusual in the Haus and Jack is in now way smiling when Bitty’s face just turns this rosy-red whenever the blond gets excited or happy or in general when his entire team is just _there_. It’s like being next to a roaring hot fire but only feeling the warmth that comes with the comfort of a source of heat.

When they finish singing their warbled out version of some song Jack kind of understands is from an animated movie (?) with a singing snowman and a _lot_ of snow (“Jack, just think if snow were personified into an angsty, twenty-something, woman who has been repressed to the point of barely knowing her own sister who also don't need no man. That shit’s powerful stuff.”) and an evil prince. They’re all smiling and joking and fooling around. Jack can’t help but feel a small but sharp tug behind his sternum. A small feeling that tells him he’s gonna miss these morons. Because these morons are _his_ morons and his morons are _family_.

Bitty turns his head to catch a glance of all his teammates and that’s all he needs. Jack’s face is light and a small (read: huge [by Jack measurement units, of course, as officiated by B.'Shitty' Knight]) smile is sitting on his face like it had always been there.

Shitty is draping an arm over Jack and an arm around Lardo. The small manager is just as loud as her counterparts who are all laughing and smiling and enjoying time together in general. Ransom and Holster are leaning on each other, like two support beams almost becoming one as they poke light fun at the frogs. And the frogs - bless their little hockey-minded hearts - are _getting along_. Dex and Nursey seem to have some kind of truce and Chowder looks...smug? Proud? Bitty shakes his head and keeps his smile on, an almost permanent feeling of joy residing in his chest. There is one phrase that has never been truer for the blond in this one moment, he thinks, as Bitty is dragged into a group hug that was somehow initiated by Chowder of all people (frogs: made of surprises) by Jack’s warm hand and smile. The hug is the confirmation that Bitty never knew he needed.

_Got your back. Always, always got your back._

 


	2. vi. interlude: i won't say it (no, no)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that what the kids are calling that these days,” Braunstun murmurs and Eric turns a brighter shade of red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where Braunstun thinks that a certain blond forward can make time dilate and Bitty is _totally_ not crushing on a certain Canadian hockey player. 
> 
> (sorry guys but braunstun is pretty cool)

Parents’ weekend is coming faster than really necessary. At least, in Bitty’s opinion it does.

Time passes too quickly when there’s something to be afraid about yet there’s so much other stuff to do. There’s practice and class and baking (which is mandatory [ _don’t you laugh at me, Jack Zimmerman; you’d be lost without my bakin’ and you know it_ ]) and studying and then extra practice with Jack so the days and weeks seem to be taking forever but in actuality, time seems to have dilated for the hockey team's forward.

"Perhaps you're just _making_ time pass," Dr. Braunstun states over the rim of a new and even _uglier_ yellow cup. Eric shrugs, taking a sip of ceylon tea from his own plain brown mug. (Dr. Braunstun hogs the ugly ones, claiming that they have untapped potential.)

"People can't just make time pass by, Dr. Braunstun. Not without a jet anyhow," Bitty replies, going over the rules of physics that he can remember and Dr. Braunstun’s eyes twinkle with that kind of knowledge that would have governments on their knees.

“You’d be surprised, Eric, at what humans can manage,” she tells him and Eric simply sighs and breathes in the smell of his ceylon tea, letting the light steam and sweet scent of herbs soothe him.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Eric mutters into his cup. Barunstun smiles and leans forwards a bit in her red chair.

“So do you want to talk to me about this Jack you’ve been rather concerned for lately?” Bitty feels the blush before Braunstun spots it. Her laugh is loud and mellow but isn’t mean-spirited in any way.

“I’m not ‘concerned’,” Eric protests a bit too eagerly and Dr. Braunstun’s eyebrows climb high on her forehead as if to say, “Of course you’re not Eric; not as if you talk about him every one of our meetings”. The blond winces and Braunstun laughs again.

“Okay, maybe I am. Only a little bit, though,” Eric mumbles under his breath but Braunstun smiles like the cat that caught the canary and motions for him to continue.

“I’m just...worried. About him. That’s all, really, I swear,” Eric reasons and Braunstun gives him a look of utter disbelief which has the blond shrinking back into his seat in embarrassment.

“Is _that_ what the kids are calling that these days,” Braunstun murmurs and Eric turns a brighter shade of red.

“I am. Just worried. I mean, with all this media stuff happenin’ and the professional hockey deals I’m just...worried.” Eric bites his lip and tries to figure out when the word ‘worried’ didn’t mean what he felt anymore. Braunstun ‘hmmms’ at this and then gives her had a small shake.

“At least that whole storm is over. It seems to me that the paparazzi is leaving you alone for now,” Braunstun states, diverting the topic. Eric smiles despite his previous embarrassment.

“That’s our Lard-Larissa. Apparently she talked to them about it and they just stopped,” Eric crows with pride. When Lardo had sprinted (“I shit you not, Bitty, she fuckin’ _sprinted_. Beat any time ever of running across campus. Even that one track guy who ran with his fucking pants on fire away from a frat house to the Pond.”) to the Haus once the reporters had left and Shitty had filled her in on everything, the next morning the team manager had this gleam in her eye.

“ _Bitty_ ,” she began, something manically protective in her gaze and maternally predatory, “ _don’t worry about the paparazzi for a while. Bake some cookies. Cuddle with Jack. Leave the rest to me_.” After that, she was gone like smoke and wasn’t back to the Haus for the rest of the day. When she did come back, however, it was with the kind of swagger a lioness walks with after a successful kill. Her wicked grin when Bitty asked where she had gone was all he needed. _Taken care of._

When Bitty had asked the rest of team where she had gone, only Shitty had some semblance of an answer and it was with some vague sense of pride that one might have after an accomplished murder.

“ _Damage control_ ,” Shitty had replied with a smile. “ _Don’t worry about it Bits; it’s her job_.” Bitty shakes off the shudder that travels down his spine at the memory and he takes another sip of tea.

“Larissa. Always had a talent with people, that one,” Braunstun comments with a knowing smirk. Bitty smiles with her and drinks more tea as Braunstun starts telling a story of a younger Lardo who, all on her own, stormed the offices of a well established news office, demanded both a private and public apology, and then proceeded to warn every single news outlet there was near Samwell of the consequences for slandering any Wellian hockey players while still remaining anonymous. And how she _won_.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may or may not write a small spin-off about lardo as a frog and still badass with the media. b/c i can.  
> harass me [here](http://www.starryzari.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter happened because i was tired and sad and wanted team feels because i don't see enough of it as is. hope you enjoyed. harrass me on tumblr here: starryzari.tumblr.com


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